


Better Call the Doctor

by Crux01



Category: Doctor Who, Homeland
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:03:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crux01/pseuds/Crux01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Dr Who has lost his companion (sorry if that's a spoiler!) I got to thinking who might be a suitable alternative.... and my thoughts (as ever) came to rest on Peter Quinn who has been criminally under utilised this season.  So here is how it may go......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Call the Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might have had too much sherry.... hic!

Quinn opened his eyes. The pain throbbing dully at the back of his head suddenly burst agonisingly forwards, creating splinters of sharp light on his retinas and blurring his vision to a watery smudge. He could not bite back the groan that leapt from his throat to be stifled by the duct tape gag across his mouth. The rest of his body, although similarly restrained, shuddered uncontrollably.

_Shit,_ he thought, _that really hurts_. He was tempted to retreat deep into the recesses of his mind where the comfort of oblivion lingered enticingly but something stopped him. A noise, a thick treacle of babble that slowly began to congeal into the shape of recognisable words.

"Come on, pal," they said. "Wake up!"

_Pal? What the fuck? What sort of an accent was that?_ Quinn forced his eyes to open again, bit back the ensuing pain and focused on the face in front of him that solidified somewhat in his still erratic and feeble gaze. _Doesn't look like a Jahadi but then who knew these days?_

The face was vaguely familiar, craggy as a mountain range, looking like it had lived through ten or twelve lives, framed by an unruly mop of grey hair but it was the eyes that caught Quinn's attention. Blue eyes as bright and eager and full of life as those of a six year old, focused on him, compelling him to wake up and interact through a strength of will that was tangible.

Quinn gulped and groaned again. _It's hard to fucking communicate when your mouth is taped up, asshole!_

As if hearing his thought the man bent forward and with no sympathy whatsoever ripped the gag away. "There we are, that's better I'm sure!" He beamed, the warmth in those eyes seemed to have the power of the sun.

"What the fuck?" Quinn spluttered.

The man stuck out a pale, skeletal hand. "Hello, I'm the Doctor," he said in a tone that surely answered every question ever asked.

Quinn stared at him, working hard to find the strength to unleash his granite gaze. _Un-fucking-believable. What the fuck is it with strange doctors appearing from nowhere in Germany? No fucking Obama care here!_ He licked his lips, still sticky from the duct tape. "I fucking need to get out," he growled, failing to lift his arms but still managing to indicate the rest of his well incarcerated body.

"My, you're like a bear with a sore head. Where does all this aggression come from? I'm just trying to help out." The man stepped back, shaking his head. "Anyway I'm afraid I'll have to stop you there," he said. "Can't have language like that, not on the BBC. They have standards you know!" he sniffed.

_Jesus, they must have hit me really hard on the head this time! Maybe if I just close my eyes when I open them again the world will be back to normal_. Quinn tried it but the old guy was still there staring at him expectantly. _Fuck, I don't have time for this!_

"You need my help," the Doctor said. "You really are in big trouble."

Quinn nodded slowly, ignoring the wave of nausea that moving his head brought him. "I know the Jihadists and the chemical weapons." His voice grated dully in his own head. _Have to humour him; at least he can help me get out of this._

The Doctor stepped forward, all of his limbs moving in different directions like a drunken spider trapped in its own web. "Oh there's that," he conceded. "But I meant the fact that you're sidelined here, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, when all the action is in Berlin. The girl is in Berlin!"

"A fucking Thanksgiving turkey," Quinn corrected.

"I've told you about the language, pal. You may be a CIA assassin in a difficult spot but there's no need for it. It doesn't help anyone and quite frankly it will get us into trouble with the bigwigs at the BBC!"

_Play along with the mad old asshole_. "I think you'll find Showtime don’t give a shit, positively encourage it in fact," Quinn countered. "And it’s Channel 4 in the UK anyway, although I happen to know the BBC's standards have gone to hell, they are always in the thick of it!"

The Doctor hesitated, his wild hair bobbing boisterously on his head, his eyes suddenly distant as if he was seeing a memory from long ago. "Yes you're probably right," he murmured. "I do seem to recall....." He shook his head, eyes burning with intensity once more. "Now back to you and your predicament." He knelt down again and began to peel the duct tape away from Quinn's ankles. "Still dreaming of lips you should not have kissed, eh?"

_Fuck, don't go there!_ Quinn stiffened as the Doctor continued. "Really you have a lot to learn, son. Put all your hope on a maybe and then don't even stick around to see what her answer is? That is schoolboy error of a ginormous magnitude."

_Shut the fuck up!_ Quinn could feel the rage building deep within him. _How is this happening to me? Play along, play along, just have to get free and then I can do the necessary....._ "How do you know all this?" he asked through gritted teeth.

The Doctor stopped, looked down at him, eyes twinkling. "I'm the Doctor remember, I know stuff!" Triumphantly he stepped backwards as he pulled the last piece of tape away liberating Quinn's legs and arms but somewhat ruined the affect by getting himself entwined in the tape. He tired to untangle himself, lurched forward and almost fell over.

Quinn pulled a disbelieving face. _They hit my head really hard this time; I need some meds, pretty quick!_

"Come on!" The Doctor urged, grasping his lost credibility as only someone well practiced in the art could, he made to move out of the dark, dank room where Quinn had been held prisoner.

"Erh?" Quinn lifted his arms to show he was still chained to the wall.

"Whoops," the Doctor said and delving deep into the pocket of his great black coat brought out a pair of sunglasses.

"What the....?" Quinn stopped himself from finishing the sentence. "Shouldn't that be a screwdriver?" He forced himself to ask as calmly as he could. _Deep breaths, you will wake up soon!_

"Aha!" The Doctor began to run the sunglasses over the chain, eyes flashing eccentrically. "So you do know who I am!"

Quinn felt himself shrug sheepishly. _Has it gotten hot in here all of a sudden?_ "Well maybe I caught a couple of your shows when I was a kid..... but you were different then...." He let the sentence drift away not wanting to elaborate further.

With the tart smell of burning and a loud crack the chain broke apart. The Doctor raised his sunglasses and blew on them lovingly. "Never fails," he muttered. "So you ready for action?"

Quinn nodded warily, ignoring the further pain as the blood rushed back into his limbs. "You got a plan?" _I should just whack this dude over the head and get on with it, but......._

"A plan?" The Doctor looked troubled. "Aren't we just making this up as we go along? Can't see the writers actually knowing where they're going at all! Sometimes it feels to me that it's completely different people writing each episode and they have never met, let alone compared notes. Do you ever get that feeling?"

_He is a moron and a mad one at that! Still I've worked with crazier_. The thought of Carrie caused Quinn to pause. "You said the girl was in Berlin?" he asked before he could stop himself.

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, pining for you, inconsolable....."

_Well fuck me_! A surge of warmth ran through Quinn's battered body. "Really?"

"Well maybe not quite, but she did mention you once to that iffy German boss of hers. Actually, come to think about it she seems more upset that her relationship with the boring lawyer has gone down the tubes. Does she have a thing for gingers?"

Quinn stopped. The warmth freezing in his every pore. _I fucking knew it! Should have thrown myself into that bloody river with or without the cement block._

"Now, don't get all bitter and twisted again! Don't even think about going looking for a dumpster!" The Doctor laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Don't forget I am a Time-lord and I can see into the future!"

"So?"

"I can see the future." He repeated with more emphasis, eyebrows raising to his untidy hairline.

"And?" Quinn took an menacing step forward as anger took hold. He roughly grabbed the Doctor and pulled him forwards. "What's your point?" he growled.

The Doctor spoke quickly, words flooding out in an inexorable flow. "Couple of months ago I landed in Langley in the year 2020. Saw you and your lovely lady walking together with your cute babies and an older beautiful red head girl. Quite the happy family."

Something deep inside Quinn broke. _Fuck! Got to keep control._ "Are you serious?"

The Doctor's eyes were unreadable. "Deadly," he responded, all levity gone.

Quinn let go of his lapels, stepped away, trying to control the writhing snake of yearning that coiled in his belly. The Doctor brushed himself down. "My, you have to do something about your anger issues!"

"Sorry," Quinn muttered.

The Doctor shrugged and then focused once more. "Right we have forty seven minutes to sort this out."

Quinn shuddered and looked positively sick.

The Doctor hesitated "Is there a problem?"

Quinn gulped. "Not really. It's just that number brings back painful memories for me."

"What forty seven? How extremely odd. Anyway it's forty six minutes left now, we have to move!"

_Pull yourself together!_ "What do you suggest?"

"You sort out your friends here." The Doctor winked. "I'll go get your girl."

"That's it?"

"A great, learned man once said, the simple answer is usually the right one."

 

 

 

Quinn had just finished off Bibi, the leader of the Jihadists and made sure that the chemicals in the barrels were all safe, when he heard a strange noise outside. He stumbled out into the bright light of a sunny fall afternoon, to see a blue box had landed in the parking lot.

He squinted at the sight, trying to ignore the pain from the sun that, after so long in dim surroundings, exploded behind his eyes. _Jesus this concussion is bad this time!_

The door opened, banging with a dull thud on the side of the telephone box and out towards him rushed a familiar blonde figure. Before he could think anything else, Quinn found himself enveloped in a strong embrace, his senses bombarded by the very essence of her. His heart leaping with pure joy. _This is better than I could have hoped!_

"Quinn!” she said gripping him with the tightness of a desperate lover. "Quinn. I was so worried."

_What the fuck? I should step away, this can only end one way but I am enjoying this too much._ So he let her snuggle into his arms and laid his weary head on top of hers, not thinking, only feeling.

"Ahem!" A voice interrupted their canoodling and Quinn managed to pull himself away to see the Doctor eying him with a knowing gaze. "All sorted here?" The older man asked.

Quinn nodded as Carrie, apparently with great reluctance, peeled herself away from him. She reached for his hand and squeezed it lovingly. _Fuck!_ Quinn gulped.

"Did you kill them?" she asked, a bloodthirsty glint in her eye as she looked up at him. Quinn nodded.

The Doctor let out a disapproving snort. "Not my way at all. We'll have to change that if you're to be my next companion!"

"Excuse me?" _What the fuck is he talking about now? He can't really believe that I'm gonna fly off with him when I've got my girl? When all my dreams have been answered?_

The Doctor drew in a long, hard breath before continuing. "Of course that's what this is all about. I find, through unforeseeable circumstances, I have a vacancy. I scanned the TARDIS' data banks for a suitable replacement and your name came up. Granted you have a few problematical edges that will need smoothing off, but think about it. Do they really need you here? Do they really make good enough use of your talents? Bleeding you dry with painful injuries. Sending you off on subplots that don't mean anything. Ignoring Twitter and all those tumblr comments from your devoted fan girls pleading that you, at the very least, interact with the other major characters. Not to mention the fanfic antics you get up to!"

Quinn nodded. _It has been fucking annoying... 'You're off to Syria, now you're not! You're gonna kill the Deputy Emir, now you're not!' They were the same with that asshole Brody!_ "Would I get to kill anybody though? You have to realise I am a misanthropic war machine."

Carrie tutted and tossed her head despairingly next to him. The Doctor frowned. "Maybe the odd Dalek or non human who doesn't matter too much."

_Does sound kinda tempting!_

"Think about the whole universe as your playground." The Doctor continued. "You'd get second billing and it would actually mean something. No 'ands' at the end of the credits so everybody knows you're not really the male lead!"

"But you are the male lead," Carrie interjected pointing at the Doctor accusingly.

"Well of course!" The Doctor retorted. "But he would be definite second with no men with girls’ names or that weirdo that killed Mozart to out trump him!"

Carrie squeezed Quinn's hand. "But I've only just discovered my feelings for you, well rediscovered is possibly more correct, since I did find them at the end of season 4, only to inexplicably lose them again and fall in love with a boring lawyer even when I realised you were prepared to die for me." She smiled sweetly up at him.

_Oh fuck..... I love her......I really do.....she is so cute!_

Quinn took a deep breath. "I'm sorry but I have to refuse your offer, Doctor." He looked down into her eyes and felt a flower of warmth blossom in his guts.

"Because you love me?" she asked running her tongue along her lips seductively.

He snorted. "No, cos I've got a better offer!" He beamed proudly. "I'm gonna be the next James Bond!"

"Oh, for fucksake!" Carrie pulled away from him. "We have been through this so many times." She shook her head disinterestedly and looked at her nails. "You will end up in another French/Canadian coproduction nowhere near New York looking grim, trying to sing a bit and wearing a nice hat!"

Quinn bristled. "I will not!"

"Blonde hair, Nazi jack boots again maybe?" she glared.

"Carrie!" He rumbled dangerously.

"Or what about period drama, those whiskers, phut!" She spat her defiance at him.

They were squaring off against each other, all violent, destructive emotion, glaring at the other with uncompromising intensity.

_Fuck, I am going to fucking kill her!_

"Children, children!" The Doctor intervened. "I do not have time for this! You," he pointed at Quinn. "Cannot be Bond because you haven't got an English accent!" He hesitated as, rather than being annoyed by the comment, Quinn positively beamed as if it were the best compliment he had ever been given. Pushing the weird response aside the Doctor turned to Carrie. "How about you? Do you fancy it? You're probably more my type anyway!"

Quinn moved between the pair. "Absolutely not!"

Carrie's aggressive demeanour immediately crumpled. "Because you would miss me, my love?" she asked in a dreamy voice.

The Doctor did a double take; what sort of a messed up, clusterfuck of a relationship did these two have? He felt a brief twang of doubt that he had lied about his visit to 2020 earlier but that was soon pushed away as Quinn speared him with a despairing look and said. "Have you seen the mess she's made in Beirut, in Baghdad, in Langley, Islamabad and now here in Berlin? The rest of the universe is not ready for Carrie Mathison!"

The Doctor sighed in frustration as Carrie thumped Quinn hard. "You've got a point," he acknowledged. "I guess I'll have to look elsewhere." He sighed. "Meanwhile you two had better get back to Berlin. You need to sort out Saul's marriage."

Quinn, dumbly rubbing his arm where she had thumped him, and Carrie exchanged puzzled looks. "I thought Mira filed for divorce." Carrie said.

"Not that one! His thirty plus years one to Dar Adal. I got to go!" He turned to open the TARDIS door.

"Thanks Doctor," Quinn moved quickly to shake his hand. He nodded over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "For getting me the girl." The Doctor smiled sadly. "It's not the getting that's the hard part, it's the keeping!"

_Fuck, I hope not. It's taken me three bloody seasons to get this far!_

"You might want to try flying over Washington way, there's a guy over there I know who's out of a job. Bit older than your normal companions, his wife makes great lasagne." Quinn's brow furrowed. "You might have to tone down his language for the BBC a bit though!"

"I'll consider it. As long as he hasn't got a girl’s name too!" With that the Doctor closed the door and, after a deep rumbling filled the air, the TARDIS disappeared.

"Ready to go get the Russians?" Carrie asked.

_Fuck, she wants me, she wants me! SHE WANTS ME! Don't fuck this up now_!

Quinn nodded, quashing down his inner turmoil. "Ready." He hesitated. "Have you got any spare meds? They hit me very hard this time; I have a really bad headache......"

**Author's Note:**

> I'll get my coat


End file.
